


How I Met Your Father

by potionsmaster



Series: How I Met Your Father [2]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: A Peek Into The Past, Eden Prime (Mass Effect), Extended Families, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family History, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Game 1, Game 2, Game 3, Gen, Headbutting is a Renegade Interrupt, Irony, M/M, Not quite enemies to friends to lovers, Post-Virmire, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Virmire (Mass Effect), between game 1 and 2, feros, life on the orchard, more tags as the story progresses, story telling, strange family tree, the whole situation is just...strange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: Immediately follows‘Family Is Everything’. Mark takes Cassie on a trail ride and tells her all the nitty gritty of how he met her father
Relationships: Female Shepard/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko & Female Shepard, Kaidan Alenko & Male Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard, male shepard & daughter
Series: How I Met Your Father [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921438
Comments: 23
Kudos: 16





	1. Happy Trails

**Author's Note:**

> Part DEUX! or...ZWEI! or TWO, if you wanna stick with English instead of the languages the boys speak, lol. Buckle up, it’s a helluva ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark makes good on his promise to Cassie that he'll tell all about how he met her father and takes her on a trail ride. No better place to have a heart-to-heart with his daughter than the open trail and trees, after all.

**_How I Met Your Father,_ ** by potionsmaster

Rating: M for swearing, sexual situations, game level violence

* * *

  
  
  


**Chapter 1:** _ Happy Trails _

White buds peek through the soft fuzzy green young leaves on the trees as we ride through the orchard, horse hooves softly clopping on the stony dirt path, the air much warmer than it had been earlier this morning. Dad looks at ease on Grandma’s horse George, a clean-limbed, tall, stately dark-bay animal she uses for jumping fences in the ring. The horse himself looks a little out of place in the western saddle he’s using, but I suspect it’s because I’m used to seeing him in what Dad calls a ‘pancake saddle’. It was amusing to hear him and Grandma banter back and forth over which horses to use with which equipment before we left; it’s easy to forget Dad grew up in a farming settlement on Mindoir and has experience with them. Left to his own devices, he’d stay in urban areas and that’s that, but I’ve heard him and Papa discussing alternatives and maybe possibly settling on Earth to be closer to Grandma and the orchard. 

We amble along, taking in the scenery and Dad humming tunelessly to himself in time to the hoofbeats. It reminds me of being back home on Arcturus, with him cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes in the sink, and folding a basket of laundry. I nudge Cinder’s ribs with my heels, goading her faster so I can ride side-by-side with him and we can talk. He gives me a lopsided grin, touching the brim of his baseball hat in a mock salute.

“Howdy, ma’am. You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah! She’s being a good girl…” I pat Cinder’s silky neck, chestnut fur glistening in the dappled sunlight. “Kinda boring, though.”

“Borin’ is good, as your grandmother says, and I’m inclined to agree with her. You don’t want the ride to become ‘excitin’’, because that’s when the chance for things to go wrong occurs.”

“Mhm. I know. But I think I know a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. You owe me a story. Remember?”

“Mhm. That I do.” He glances down and pats George’s shoulder, adjusting a stray lock of black mane back to the appropriate side of his neck. 

“So? How’d you meet Papa?”

His grin turns devious. “On the  _ Normandy, _ like I said.” I roll my eyes with a groan. “Now, if you want to know how we got  _ together,  _ that’s a whole other thing.” 

“Yes. Ok. Fine. You got me. Spill.” The red mare I’m riding snorts in perfect punctuation to my words and we laugh at it.

“Well…” he starts, “It...it’s a whole other thing, yeah, but I’m not really certain where to start. There’s so much tangled up in it all.”

I glance up at him and he has that far-away look in his eyes again. He’s gazing ahead at the trail but he’s not really seeing it. “Why not start at the beginning…?”

He blinks, coming back to the present and messes with George’s mane again, quiet for a few moments. “Well, I guess I really don’t know where the beginnin’  _ is.” _

It’s my turn to blink. “How so?”

He tips his head to the side, considering. “Like, do I start on Mindoir? When I enlisted? The club and Erin? Stuff with me and you? Makin’ Spectre? The first date? If that’s what you wanna call it, I guess. All the shit that led  _ up _ to the so-called ‘first date’? There’s… a  _ lot _ of interlockin’ pieces here, and it’s hard to know exactly how far back to start, Monkey.”

“How about you start with the  _ Normandy? _ Since you say that’s where you first met him. And then go from there?”

Dad nods, faraway look back in his eyes. “Yeah. Aight.” He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. And then he speaks.


	2. Once Upon A Galaxy, In A Star System Far, Far Away...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark begins the tale of how he met Cassie's father. On Crew Deck of the _Normandy_ does our fair story start...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so it isn't jarring, when Mark's telling the story, it's his POV, like the Stargazer at the end of game three telling the child all about the Shepard.

**_How I Met Your Father,_ **by potionsmaster

Rating: M for swearing, sexual situations, game level violence

* * *

**Chapter 2:** _Once Upon A Galaxy, In A Star System Far, Far Away..._

“And this will be where you’ll be staying for the duration of our missions together,” Captain Anderson said, nodding Mark and Nihlus towards the med-bay. “We have cots set up, and workstations at the table for you to work at.” Erin followed behind them silently. Mark could practically feel her eyes boring into his back, but there’d be time enough later to give a proper hello. Anderson led them past med-bay to the bank of lockers in front of it. “And here’s where you can stow your gear; next to XO Shepard’s.” 

Mark slung his shore bag down with a sideways glance at the small, platinum blonde woman beside him, giving her a small wink as Nihlus also dropped his bag on the ground. 

“Captain!” a voice called out from the elevator, “Engineer Adams is requesting you down by the drive core; he’d like to go over a few procedures when you have a moment.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Anderson apologized. Nihlus’s mandibles fluttered as the captain retreated, then turned towards the two remaining humans.

“XO Shepard, hm? Is this the mate you were telling me about?”

“Yes, this is my wife, Erin. Erin, this is Spectre Nihlus Kryik,” Mark introduced them with a half-grin, gesturing between the two. 

“Pleased to meet you, Spectre Kryik.” She stuck out her hand with a bright, professional smile, and he was amused at Nihlus blinking at it a moment, then grasping her forearm, pulling her towards him as he bowed his head in a modified traditional Palaveni greeting. The smile faltered a moment as she glanced at Mark before she reciprocated and tipped her head as well, stumbling a moment.

“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m afraid,” Nihlus replied, releasing her and unpacking some of his bag into his locker. “I appreciate being allowed to take your mate from you and your youngling for so long. He’s doing very well. I look forward to many more missions together. However, I _do_ need to check-in and check the log, if I’m able to.” 

Erin nodded. “We’ve set up a secure workstation for you in your makeshift quarters. I need to attend my duties, as well.”

“Commander.” 

Nihlus picked up his bag and entered med-bay, leaving them alone. Mark finished unpacking his spare set of armor into the locker and straightened up, slinging his freshly-lightened bag over his shoulder with a half-grin at her. “Co- _man_ der Shepard, heh.”

“Shut it, ass,” she grinned back with an eye roll. “Walk me to the elevator? I need to check on the requisition officer’s lists. You and Nihlus need to check in your weapons with Jenkins, too, at some point today. He’s our Master at Arms.” 

“Sure thing. Let me get situated in our bunk, then I’ll be down. I want a tour of the ship at some point, too. You gonna make me salute?” he teased, nudging her with his elbow as they walked. Getting off duty couldn’t come soon enough.

“No, but you can if you want; I won’t stop you,” she smirked back. They stopped in front of the elevator and she thumbed the call button. “This thing is slow as molasses.” 

“Eh, aren’t they all, when you get down to it. Did you get the last email from Cas?” He shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder.

“Yeah! It was good to hear from her. Pretty neat that her choral teacher gave her a solo. How did we wind up with such a talented kid?”

He shrugged. “Blood magic ritual? I dunno.” The elevator door opened and a handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed man in staff lieutenant bars blinked at them before stepping out with a murmured _Commanders…_ in an equally appealing, husky voice. Mark felt his eyebrows arch into his hairline as he watched the man walk towards the console in front of the main battery outside the captain’s cabin. “Whoosh…” he breathed, mock-fanning himself and turning back to Erin. _“DAY-_ um. I dunno if you’ve thought about it or not, but you should _totally_ hit that.”

Erin slugged him on his bicep and he chuckled, noticing her bright red cheeks and ears.

“I mean… If _you’re_ not, I kinda want to- _ow!”_

“Would you _stop,”_ she hissed at him, punching him lightly on his stomach a few more times for good measure. He grabbed her fists, covering them with his own large hands as he spread them to the side and drew her close, glancing around before stealing a quick kiss. Her face was still pink, but she seemed somewhat placated as she cuddled close for a brief moment before stepping into the metal box.

“Aight, I’m sorry,” he grinned. She punched the button and stuck her tongue out at him. “Not really, though. _Whew._ Dude looks good, for real.”

“Did you happen to catch his name tape? Or were you too busy ogling his ass?” she griped, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her eyebrows in exasperation. “That’s Kaidan.”

Oops.

No wonder she was cranky about it; she’d called him a couple days ago, worried she and the marine detail commander were going to have problems. And now he had a face to go with the person.

“Ha… I _see._ Well, in that case, perhaps you can work out your differences in the workplace between the sheets.”

_“Mark-!”_

The elevator closed on her just then, incredulous shock the last thing he saw on her face and he just laughed again as he made his way to med-bay.

* * *

  
  
  


Mark watched Erin secure her loadout on her maglock harness in the cargo hold, Nihlus quietly conferring with Captain Anderson off to the side. The other two on Erin’s ground team, Jenkins and Alenko, were getting ready by their lockers, talking softly between themselves. Erin stood next to him and he grinned at her.

“Come here often?”

She rolled her eyes behind her HUD, shaking her head.

“You’re such a shit,” she said affectionately.

“You love me for it,” he replied. 

“For some reason, yeah. But I knew what it was when I signed up.”

“For the military? Absolutely,” he joked. “And you’re welcome for that. But I submit that _I_ was a wild card. You had _no_ idea what you signed up for back then, admit it.”

“Mm, I could tell about the ‘wild’ part. Not complaining about it, though,” she teased slyly, keeping her voice low. 

“Considerin’ how loud you can get, though, the neighbors tend to. Though this is a stealth ship, right? After we drop boots, I should drop _you_ and test the soundproofin’.” 

“Stop it,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder and eyes bright. “And maybe you’ll have a better chance of it actually happening.”

He slid a little closer, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t think there’s spots out of the way? Tsk, tsk, _Commander,_ you oughta know by now where there’s a will, there’s a way, even on a frigate. And I’d _love_ to have my way with you.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Erin muttered, hiding her grin behind shaking her head.

“Uh, that’s not exactly appropriate, if I may,” Alenko interrupted from behind them, tossing a dark look at Mark. Erin rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine, Lieutenant; I am _more_ than familiar with Spectre-Initiate Shepard’s manners, or lack thereof. Not the first time I’ve come across him, and it won’t be the last, either.” 

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Mark snorted. “Your phrasin’ is on point, too, Commander.” Alenko looked like he was about to retort when a shadow sidled close up to Mark, Nihlus’ stern demeanor casting a shadow over the conversation and causing them all to lapse into silence.

_“Engaging stealth systems,”_ the pilot cut in over the comms. Anderson glanced up. _“Someone was doing some serious digging here, Captain.”_

“You’re team’s the muscle in this operation, Commander,” Anderson said, turning towards Erin and her team. “Go in heavy and head straight for the dig site.” 

Alenko stepped forward. “What about survivors, Captain?” Mark quirked a cool eyebrow at that; of course the LT would have the bright and shiny ideal. From the mission brief back in the comm room, he wasn’t sure there were going to be any. Jenkins was just as intense as the staff louie, though. He had to wonder at their service records; Erin had said earlier everyone on board was handpicked by the captain for their experience, but damned if he knew what it was. Hopefully their experience would make itself known on the ground.

“Helping survivors is a secondary objective. The beacon’s your top priority.” 

“Are you guys coming with us, Nihlus?” Jenkins asked after a moment, every bit the eager beaver Erin had called him earlier in the day.

“We’ll move faster separated. Cover more ground,” his mentor said, glancing at him before grabbing his shotgun and moving towards the bay door for drop. Mark followed suit, taking out his AR and catching Erin’s eye over Anderson’s shoulder, touching the side of his helmet in mock-salute to her with a wink. He saw Alenko roll his eyes at that. No wonder Erin thought she was going to have problems with him; dude had a major stick up his ass.

“Nihlus and Spectre-Initiate Shepard will scout out ahead. He’ll feed you status reports through the mission, otherwise I want radio silence…” Captain Anderson’s voice faded as Mark and the turian disembarked, scanning their surroundings and assessing. They dropped outside a little settlement, sky an eerie red-orange backdrop as the ship flew off to drop point two. 

The eeriness continued as they made their way into the settlement, the houses and structures strangely silent for the time of day it was. “I don’t like this,” he muttered to Nihlus. A noise clattered off to the side behind one of the prefab houses and they both startled, raising their weapons. _Shades o’ Mindoir…_ he thought. The similarities were uncanny enough to make him suspect. His stomach clenched at a familiar, unwelcome stench of scorched human flesh. “Batarian raid, d’you think?”

“Possibly,” Nihlus muttered back, moving towards the noise. “It certainly seems like their MO.” The turian gestured to scorched bodies scattered about, like they’d been trying to get away from whatever it was. “Though I would think they’d be more interested in keeping as many alive for slaves as possible.”

“Yeah, you’d’ve thought that about back home, too.” 

Nihlus gave him a shrewd look, then pulled him off the path behind cover, tipping Mark’s head up with a gentle claw. “I’m sorry we found the colony in this state. It must be difficult for you. Are you able to focus past it?” He must’ve looked more shaken than he thought; Nihlus was typically all business in the field. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“If you’re certain. I know the feeling well.” Nihlus bumped his forehead gently to Mark’s helmet before letting his claw drop. “I’m here to support you, not just train you. However you’d like to process it later tonight is fine, though I expect you’ll want to do it with your mate more than me, now that she’s available.”

Perhaps Erin was right about Nihlus being more invested than he initially thought. If so, they were going to have to have a discussion later.

“Don’t count your salarians before they hatch, sir,” he replied, briefly leaning into the turian after a moment before moving out again. Nihlus’ mandibles fluttered. “The Alliance isn’t like the Hierarchy. They don’t appreciate their soldiers bein’ so blatant or casual about it; it’s not technically supposed to happen. Even though everybody knows it does. They pretend it doesn’t unless it’s in front of them, y’know?”

“Fascinating,” Nihlus murmured, slinking out after him. Mark was endlessly enthralled with how such a large being could move so stealthily. “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t want their soldiers as relaxed and content as possible, but perhaps they prefer their infantry frustrated so they take their aggression out on the opposition. In my experience, that doesn’t work as well as one would hope it would, but. Human military decision-makers aren’t coming to _me_ for advice on that matter.”

Mark suppressed a snort at that, scanning the ground ahead. He didn’t mind the banal small talk; it served to keep him out of his own thoughts too much and probably why Nihlus was inclined to keep up the discussion. More burned bodies and strange spike structures were strewn around. That wasn’t like the batarian raids he was familiar with, but he didn’t put it past them to bring some new and atrocious practices into play, either. He nudged Nihlus with his elbow and gestured to the spikes with his assault rifle. The turian’s eyebrow plates furrowed as he moved closer to investigate. 

“Strange… I’ve never come across anything like this before. Have you?” He prodded the base of it.

“No…” Rustling in the grass from the left caught his attention. “Motion, on your eleven.” 

Nihlus immediately turned towards it, shotgun leveling at the strange gray _thing_ that was lurching towards them. “It… it _looks_ human. But what _is_ it?” Its glowing blue eyes focused on them and it picked up speed with an oddly electronic screech. Two more appeared and started to move towards them.

“I dunno. If they are, there doesn’t look to be anybody home to talk to. What’s your call?” 

The first one lunged at Nihlus and he blasted it in the shoulder, moving back and pumping the next round into the chamber. “Hostile contact; fire at will.”

Three more of the gray humanoids rushed out from behind another building and they made quick work of them, Mark throwing a singularity and Nihlus picking them off before tapping his comm. 

“This place got hit _hard,_ Commander. Hostiles everywhere. Keep your guard up.” They briefly glanced over the dead bodies, noting the tubing and nodes along the limbs before they disintegrated in a small electric EMP. Mark thanked his lucky stars his shield was able to take the brunt of it; he wouldn’t be caught unaware of that little trap again. The turian nodded him further down the path and deeper into the settlement. Mark slunk after him, sweeping left and right with his AR. 

“More to the point that humans are, when you get down to it, dumb mammals who complicate things when they get emotionally invested in somethin’ or someone else, goin’ back to the previous topic,” he continued. “Jealousy, power trips, disagreements that bleed over into the workplace and affect others… The brass doesn’t want to deal with it, so into the regs it goes.” 

The occasional burst of weapon fire crackled in the distance; Erin must have come upon opposition. He briefly wondered if it was the same weird gray, emaciated bodies with tubing they had found. 

“Hm. Perhaps you can tell them through your experiences, the Hierarchy has a better approach to it.”

Mark snorted at that. “Yeah, right. I can see that goin’ over _real_ well. ‘Hey, Admirals and Parliament members, I think the Alliance would be better served by gettin’ rid of no frat regs completely based on anecdotal experience of I’m less stressed when I can get some ‘stress relief’ with my squad when I was in Spectre trainin’, know what I’m sayin’?’ I’d be laughed out of the service.”

“But likely still a Spectre, and then it truly wouldn’t matter,” the turian pragmatically pointed out. “As I’ve told you, the Council doesn’t particularly care about _how_ you get a job done. Just that it gets done.”

The further into the settlement they got, the more spikes and corpses they found in various states of scorch. His stomach turned; it was almost exactly like it was back home in Dion: people shot down in the streets, buildings on fire along with the bodies, smoke thick and choking in the air. The only thing he could think of was the control chips the batarians were known for using was somehow changing the humans into these weird, gray, shriveled up and dried out drone-like _husks_ of what the person used to be for shock troops, but that didn’t make any kind of sense. Any ones they encountered were quickly put down and he distracted himself by furthering the conversation. 

“I remember. Still takes some gettin’ used to. I’m a war dog for the Alliance still; they have a couple of leashes on me yet. Part of this is tryin’ to see how much the Council duties will interfere with my Alliance ones. So far they seem to align alright, but there will come a time when they don’t, y’know?”

Nihlus didn’t answer; they had come upon another sector of the settlement and it was more of the same with one notable exception he could see. There were more of the spike things around the central location in town. And some of the tips were dripping red.

“Got some burned out buildings in here, Shepard. Lots of bodies...we’re going to check it out. Try to catch up with you at the dig site,” the turian said into his comm. 

Small pops snapped through the air from a distance. That meant Erin and her squad were taking fire again. _Shit._ It was small consolation to him that she was an N7 like him and more than capable of defending herself. Nihlus fell silent, swift and keeping to the shadows as they moved quickly through the settlement. 

“Wait…” he whispered, throwing out an arm to stop Mark. They crouched behind the corner of a prefab unit, Nihlus peering around the outer edge. “They’ve got a human...and they’re putting it on some kind of pedestal on its back. They’re...holding the human in place.”

_“What?”_ Mark whispered back. He desperately wanted to see what was happening but he didn’t think it’d be a terribly wise move to look and conversely blow their cover. Low, mechanical groans and clicks met his ears. _“Who’s_ got a human?”

“Some kind of mech, but I haven’t seen the design for it before,” the turian breathed in his ear, all business now. “Singular ocular light, almost… _quarian_ , from the looks of it. At first I thought it might have been them, but they’re not traditionally so aggressive. Particularly with humans - _oh!”_ His mandibles flicked in surprise and he flattened himself against the wall again, adjusting his grip on his shotgun. “I fear we’ve discovered what the spikes are for, and why some were painted red.”

Nihlus tugged Mark in front of him, sliding along the wall until their positions were reversed in order to let Mark see. He eased around the corner until he got a clear view of the mechs. A male body was impaled on a spike, high above the ground, blood raining in slow, heavy drops that were lessening as the body drained. The man’s skin already had a grayish pallor to it and the mechs had moved on to a female this time. Mark suppressed a gasp of his own as another spike erupted from the other pedestal, carrying the woman skyward as her blood saturated the ground with the man’s.

“Not batarians, then,” he whispered back, stomach clenching in a hard knot. Whatever the fuck they were, they were about to be dead. Deactivated. Whatever.

“No,” Nihlus agreed. “If I had to make a guess, I’d say ‘geth.’ Nobody’s seen them in about 300 years, but… the build makes me think of the descriptions I’ve read about them. It’s strange, though. No reports ever said anything about these… structures they’re using. Or that they were interested in anybody other than the quarians.”

“Maybe they were bidin’ their time and were workin’ on this little gift. And maybe they wanted to test it out on another species that might not be as noticed if they were gone before they made their strike against the quarians, if that’s what it is they’re doin’.”

“Mm. We won’t know more until later, I fear. Ready?” 

Mark nodded, rolling his shoulders to loosen up for the fight. “Ready.” The fight was quick and relatively painless; the geth were equally as susceptible to singularities as other opponents and it was almost too easy to yank them off their feet. 

“Seeing you in action makes me wish I had biotics myself,” Nihlus said quietly as they investigated the ‘bodies’ of the geth, for lack of a better term in his head. He didn’t quite know what to make to them yet. “You remind me of Saren a bit, but his were a bit different.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

He poked cautiously at one of the mangled lumps of mech. It was leaking some sort of white fluid. 

“Well, his tend to be more of the telekinesis school of thought, whereas yours are more of the kinetic one,” Nihlus mused, trying to see if he could hook his omni-tool up to the geth. “He throws biotic projectiles to great effect, from my memory. And yours are more about controlling large groups. I find the way you employ yours to be more to my liking for my purposes. Then again, Saren is much more ‘up front’ with his actions on the field than I am. And in that regard, you are the same. It’s uncanny.” 

Mark huffed in amusement as Nihlus put air quotes around the words _up front;_ it was always funny and unexpected when an alien did something so distinctly human. The turian sighed, standing up and pulling out his shotgun. 

“CPU is fried enough so that I can’t salvage anything, and we don’t have enough time to try the others. We need to press on, try to catch up with your mate.” 

“What’s that?” Mark asked, gesturing to a platform and buildings off in the distance. Nihlus fluttered his mandibles again.

“Looks to be some sort of spaceport. I wonder…” The Spectre tapped his comm, calling Erin again. “Change of plans, Shepard. There’s a small spaceport up ahead. I want to check it out. We’ll wait for you there.” 

They made short work of crossing the distance and crept up on the grating. “It’s silent as a tomb,” Mark muttered, scanning constantly. 

“Keep your guard up,” Nihlus warned. “I don’t trust it. I take down here, you go above.” Mark nodded assent, moving towards his assigned location, when Nihlus stopped short. “Saren!”

“Nihlus…” a soft, unctuous voice greeting his mentor in return. Mark shivered at it; the barefaced turian’s voice slithered through his helmet and slid down his spine like poisoned velvet. “Ah. Is this your _p_ _rotégé_ _?”_

The black turian nodded, letting his weapon drop as he approached. Mark followed suit a moment later. He was a bit taken aback at meeting his own mentor’s teacher. “Yes. This is Shepard. I can only hope I do half as well teaching him, as you’ve taught me.” 

“That will depend on the _manner_ in which you teach,” Saren replied, glancing cooly at Mark. “Though I’ve no doubts this one will be just as _apt_ a pupil as you were.” If turians could sneer, Mark was certain this one was. He nodded once at them, then made his way to the upper level to finish scouting the area. It wouldn’t do to be caught unawares while they were talking.

“Shepard is,” Nihlus said simply. “Though we do have a job to do. This isn’t your mission, Saren. What are you doing here?”

  
  
“The Council thought you could use some _help_ on this one,” the other Spectre replied, clasping a hand on his mentor’s shoulder. Nihlus’s eyes flickered closed at that as he slightly turned into the touch. Mark suspected Saren had the same teaching arrangement with Nihlus as an initiate as Nihlus did with him. The claws drifted lazily away and Nihlus straightened himself up. Back to business, per the norm. Mark went back to investigating the crates and building; there were a few canisters that were on fire along with some bodies near it, but nothing truly notable. There weren’t any spikes on the platform, either. The turians’ voices drifted over him as he worked.

“I wasn’t expecting to find the geth here. The situation’s bad.”

“Don’t worry...I have it under control.”

The single gunshot report behind Mark made him drop to the ground, looking for a geth sniper as he pulled out his AR. What he wasn’t expecting was Saren to be firing at his position while the turian ran towards the tram, geth parting for him to welcome him in their midst.


	3. Runnin' and Gunnin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eden Prime was a total clusterfuck, in case it wasn't known

**_How I Met Your Father,_ **by potionsmaster

Rating: M for swearing, sexual situations, game level violence

* * *

**Chapter 3:** _Runnin’ and Gunnin’_

Mark returned fire with his assault rifle, heart pounding in his ears. He scanned the platforms, looking for more geth. What the _shit_ just happened? One minute Nihlus was talking to his old teacher and fellow Specter, then the next Saren was firing at them and apparently was in cahoots with the geth mechs. He threw a singularity at them as they retreated towards the tram, sliding behind another crate as they returned fire. 

_Fuck._

He shot the mech caught in his gravity well to the point its limbs dropped and the light deactivated, then threw another singularity in front of Saren and the remaining geth, hoping to catch them in it, but they managed to reach the tram. He broke cover and dashed towards it, hoping against hope to catch them, but no dice. Saren and the geth were already on their way. And once they reached their ship, who the fuck knew where they’d run off and hide. 

A huge rumbling erupted off in the distance, the noise more something he felt in his bones than heard, and he whipped around, looking for the source. An absolutely enormous ship was taking off, faster than he thought should have been possible given the size of it, but he couldn’t concentrate on it now. More of those creepy, mechanical screeching moans were coming from the woods and he turned, rifle at the ready.

More of the gray husks rushed towards him out of the trees. He didn’t know how much time was passing as he hurled biotics at them until his amp overheated, bodies piling up along the path. It was almost a relief to switch to his rifle, peppering them with bullets until they were as broken and empty as his mentor. 

Telltale mechanical groans and clicks off to his three from the tram alerted him to new threats. Just what he fuckin’ needed, more things to shoot at him. He immediately started firing rounds and biotics at the incoming geth, watching them drop, deactivated, with feral satisfaction. Once it was finally quiet, he dashed to the turian laid out on the platform, dark blue stain widening under him.

“No...no, no, nononono, _no,_ Jesus fuck, _Nihlus…”_ he breathed, fumbling to check his bio-stats. The turian's eyes were already glassing over. _“Scheiss die Wand an…”[1]_ No pulse. No heartbeat. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

He pulled off his helmet and bowed his head, cupping the turian’s cheeks and bringing it up so their foreheads met one last time. Damn. Not how he expected it to end. Not how he _wanted_ it to end, either, but that was never a choice that belonged to him to begin with. Not with his family, not with Torfan, not with this. The gunfire in the distance petered out, as well.

He took a deep breath and tapped his comm. “Shepard, come in.”

_“Shepard here. Sitrep?”_

Good.

Finally, something was going right. 

“Good to hear your voice, Commander. Nihlus is down. I’m at the spaceport, about to pursue.”

_“Good to hear your voice, too, Hellhound.”_ The relief was palpable in her voice. _“We’ve run into some issues ourselves. Jenkins is down, we came across Unit 212, all but one is down from them and we brought her along. Beacon’s missing. ...did I copy that Nihlus is down? Confirm?”_

_“Ja,_ confirmed, Nihlus is down. Repeat your last?” His eyes snapped open at that, the breath stolen from his lungs. _Scheisse._ That… made everything worse. 

_“Beacon wasn’t at the dig site. It’s missing. We’ve been questioning survivors we’ve come across, trying to track it.”_

He gasped as the pieces clicked in his head. He carefully placed Nihlus’s head back on the ground, brushing his lips over the colony markings, and secured his helmet once again, pulling out his AR as he started to move towards the tram. 

“Shepard, _find_ that beacon. I think the turian that killed Nihlus is after it. Do NOT let it off planet unless it’s on _our_ ship. I’m in pursuit of the target now. There’s a tram at the spaceport he went on; get there and take it. See you on the other side.”

Mark ran past the silent, broken mech units and took the tram, taking longer than he knew Nihlus would have to figure out the controls and get it moving. The turian had been the more tech-savvy between the two of them, which was fine with him. Gunfire met him as the tram pulled into the station and he was more than happy to greet it with his own.

He cursed as he got onto the platform and threw a singularity at the geth on the catwalk; Saren had apparently set charges that went live as he set foot on the decking. He was torn between calling Erin and her squad in to help him diffuse them or telling her to keep back so she wouldn’t be in danger. But if Saren already had the beacon… 

No sense in thinking that at the moment. Gunfire whizzed around him as he ducked behind the bomb for cover, tapping his comm. “Shepard, come in! We got an unknown amount of live charges to disarm, I’ve got eyes on at least two! Where you at?”

_“On your tail, Hellhound, we’re on the tram now. Hang tight!”_

Geth flooded the next section, trying to stop him, and he scanned for the next bomb, hoping against hope as he fired back at the mechs that he’d be able to find them all in time and not get his ass shot in the process. He yelled in frustration as he tossed another singularity; he could _see_ the next charge and the clock was ticking in the back of his head. He just needed to _get_ to the damn thing, but one from another group managed to clip his shield and took it down, the fuckhead, and he couldn’t do anything except stay where he was and pop up to try to neutralize _them_ before the gravity well collapsed on itself and then he’d have twice as many pissed off mechs to deal with. He snarled to himself, popping out of cover to launch a warp at them--

\--when the singularity detonated, blowing the geth in all directions, deactivating as they smashed to the ground. Mark stopped short and heard gunfire behind him.

“On your six, Hellhound!” Erin called. He belatedly remembered Alenko was biotic, too. Sentinel. No doubt useful, but it grated his nerves to have his setup detonated before he was ready to do it himself.

“Push forward!” he ordered. “Shepard, bomb! Alenko, you and 212 cover her ass! I’ll take point.” Thank god Erin was there. She was faster at tech than he was in spades. At least now he could keep an eye on her for real instead of worrying about her.

“Whoa…” the other woman soldier muttered as he fired another singularity at the remaining geth. A quick warp snapped off immediately at them blew them apart and he ran forward to the next cover.

“Shepard, last charge! Get to it!” he snapped. “Any update on the beacon?” The unfortunately now-familiar mechanical groans and screeches from the gray husks sounded from the platform below, the spikes that held them in the air lowering them in a dreadful display. Mark camped at the top of the ramp in a crouch, trying to fend them off. 

“Best we could tell, they were moving it to here so they could transport it themselves!” she replied. “Bet you dinner the bombs were set to cover it up and bury it. Done!”

Erin and her team moved to follow him down the ramp; cover was sparse, but luckily there were only a few mechs left to deal with. They quickly finished them off and he poked one with the toe of his boot.

“Any ideas about these things?” he asked, glancing around the group. The soldier in white and pink armor spoke up.

“Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212, sir. We believe them to be geth.”

Mark nodded. “Agreed. That was our reckon, too. Weird they’d mobilize _now,_ of all times.”

“Yeah. Strange…” Erin supposed, glancing around the platform. “At least we found the beacon.” She gestured to the glowing monolith beyond them. “Were you able to catch up to the other turian?”

“No,” he scowled. Alenko moved towards the beacon, peering at it, and Mark ignored him. Erin gently touched his bracer a moment.

“I’m sorry… We saw,” she said softly. “I-oh, _shit,_ Kaidan!” Erin pushed between Mark and Williams and rushed towards the beacon. He started to move after her and then--

“NO-!” He and Williams flinched at the explosion. It all happened so fast, he wasn’t quite sure _what_ actually happened; he, Erin, and Williams had been comparing notes, Alenko had gone over to look at the beacon, then Erin had shoved her way through him and Williams to yank the lieutenant out of the way, and she’d gotten caught in the field. Williams had grabbed his arm to stop him from running over to her and-- _boom._

Fuck.

_“Erin!”_

Ice spread through his veins as he saw her spread eagled on the ground. He threw Williams’ hand off himself as he dashed over to the prone figure on the ground. He fought the urge to cradle her against his chest in his arms as Alenko assessed her, omni-tool blazing orange in the haze, choosing to pace instead. He ignored the rest of the smoking colony in the background; he couldn’t afford to concentrate on it at the moment. 

That goddamn beacon. Fuckin’ Saren. Goddamn the whole damn thing. He glared at the smoking remnant of it balefully. They were still going to need to find a way to transport the fucking thing. Williams stood off to the side, awkward. The lieutenant hovered over Erin, tracking her stats on his omni-tool as he finished giving the _Normandy_ the request for pickup. 

“Sitrep,” he snapped. Alenko eyed him coolly, voice flat. 

“She’s stable, but needs further monitoring. Nothing’s broken that I can tell, but she still shouldn’t be moved until we can get her on board. Just in case something is fractured that my scans can’t pick up. That was a nasty hit she took.” 

He nodded, chewing his bottom lip impatiently as they waited. A few minutes later, the ship appeared and Kaidan made to collect her.

“I got her,” Mark said brusquely, holding out a hand to stop him. Alenko blinked at him but stepped back, acquiescing as he pursed his lips. 

“Oh-kay….there will be a gurney waiting for her in cargo hold. She needs to get to med-bay ASAP for more tests.”

Her head lolled against his shoulder as he broke into a run back up the ramp and he ignored the lieutenant.

“ _MOVE!_ Out of the way, _now!_ ” he bellowed. Soldiers scattered in front of him. “Hang on, babe… I got you…” The words caught in his throat, panic rising again as he gently placed her on the gurney. Dr. Chakwas pushed him out of the way, motioning Alenko over. They bustled away towards the elevator, Alenko babbling a bunch of medical jargon to the doctor he couldn’t make any sense of at the moment. Erin wasn’t moving at all. 

_Fuck._

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Glossary:_
> 
> [1] Scheiss die Wand an - shit at the wall (shit’s hit the fan)


End file.
